


Always Been True

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [229]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Break Up, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 00:45:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17797871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Keith hates Valentine’s Day.





	Always Been True

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Had a rough day at work yesterday and the seed of this, the first couple of lines, is what kept me going.

Keith hates Valentine’s Day. He always has, even when he was a kid and could still appreciate the cards that got passed out in class, stuck in shoe boxes decorated with pink and red paper they perched on the edge of their desks. Those were the days, honestly, when valentines came with lollipops or candy hearts attached instead of weighty expectations of love and romance and freshly-cut flowers that no one real or imagined could ever possibly meet.

He’d had exactly one Valentine’s Day in his life, one, in goddamn 21 years, where he’d spent it with somebody who’d bought him flowers. And a card. And some amazing pomegranate-flavored lube. One day and one night in a lifetime of Februaries when he’d gone to bed fucked out and happy with Lance’s head on his chest and not mad at the stupid, fake holiday. Not mad at all.

But now Lance was gone, peaced out into the arms of a hot girl with anime hair that he’d met in his communications seminar and Keith’s on his couch, alone, drowning thoughts of his one perfect Valentine’s in Sam Adams and salt and a sappy-ass movie.

Well, ok, he isn’t _alone_ alone. Shiro’s there. But Shiro’s always there, a best friend-cum-bulwark or something, a sea wall, a steadying force who can pull Keith out of any pitch and back into level flight. He doesn’t count.

“Well, thanks,” Shiro says with a chuckle. “I guess.”

“No, no,” Keith says, “you’re awesome and I love you, Shi, but it’s not the same thing. You get it, right?”

Shiro turns a little, parks his elbow on the back of the couch and props his cheek against his palm. “Sure, yeah. I get it. You miss Lance.”

Keith groans. Takes a long, last pull at his beer. “That asshole? No. No way.”

“Keith.”

“I _don’t_.”

“Uh huh. So you just spent the last twenty minutes recounting what happened at this time last year because you hate his guts?”

God, he hates it when Shiro does that.

“Does what?”

“When you, you know”--he flaps his hands around, feels like a spiraling bird--“do that. Say something and like, bam. Hit on the truth.”

Shiro laughs, a sound that shakes the couch, that tugs a smile out onto Keith’s face. “I can lie if you’d rather.”

Keith reaches for another beer. The bottle’s lost its chill. The stuff tastes like warm cherries. “No,” he manages behind his swallow. “Ugh. Please don’t.”

He feels floppy, like if he gave it a chance, the sofa would swallow him. His limbs are loose and he’s sitting too sprawly. There’s barely room for Shiro on the damn couch.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Crowding you. Sorry.”

Shiro smiles at him. Shiro’s always smiling at him. “It’s fine.”

He isn’t toasted like Keith is. He hasn’t been making out with cherry lager since six o’clock. He’d come over at eight, unexpected, bearing takeout and still wearing sweatpants.

“Straight from the gym, basically,” he’d said, looking a little sheepish. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called.”

And Keith, who’d been resigned to a long, solitary wallow, who’d been seriously annoyed when the fucking doorbell had rung, had beamed at Shiro, thrown his arms around him, breathed in the smell of sweat and spice and felt for the first time all day like he might actually make it through this day ok.

“Hey, no,” Keith had said, his arms still around Shiro’s back, “it’s good. I’m glad you came.”

So Shiro’s had two beers--well, one with dinner and another he’s been nursing ever since. It’s on the coffee table, though, slid careless beside their empty plates. Keith’s a little sloppy and Shiro isn’t and that’s ok. That’s always been ok. Shiro’s always been ok with his mess.

“Whatever happened to that guy?”

Shiro’s nose wrinkles. “What guy?”

“The, ah, shit, the guy you were seeing. The Crossfit guy you met at yoga.”

“Oh. You mean Curtis.”

Keith twists onto his side a little, lays his head on the back of the couch. “Mmmm. Yeah, him.”

Shiro’s ears flush pink. “We, ah. You know. Things just kind of burned themselves out. It happens.”

“Oh.” His tongue feels a little twisty. “Shit, I’m sorry."

“Don’t be. It wasn’t serious. I thought I told you that.”

“Yeah, you did, I just, you know, I figured you were still together. You hadn’t said anything.”

There’s something prickly in Shiro’s eyes, even as his shoulders lift in an easy shrug. “Not much worth saying, I guess.”

His hand finds Shiro’s leg, squeezes. “Sorry.”

“You keep saying that.” Shiro’s mouth turns up. “Guilty conscience? You’ve gotten nothing to apologize to me about.”

Keith grins. “Oh yeah? What about the time I backed into your car and put a dent your fender?”

“In high school? Come on."

“Dude, your dad wouldn’t talk to me for a month after that.”

Shiro laughs, his hair falling in his eyes. “Water under the bridge. Long since.”

“Ok, what about your senior prom? When I spilled Hunk’s punch all over your jacket at the pre-party and you had to go home to change? Adam was _pissed_.”

“He didn’t need a lot of encouragement in that department, Keith. You remember. He lived to be pissed off at something. I think you did him a favor, actually; he was always edgy when we were having a good time.”

The words fly out before he can stop them. “Even when you were fucking?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “Even then.”

“God, that must’ve sucked.”

“Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes, not so much.”

Keith’s face is hot. Beer, probably. Maybe the heat’s up to high. Maybe he doesn’t want to think about Shiro and Adam having tense, angry sex. “I really, really didn’t like him, Shiro. Like, at all.”

“I know.” Shiro’s mouth twitches. “You weren’t exactly subtle about it.”

“But I liked Matt. He’s a good guy. Boring, but nice. Like white rice.”

“You thought he was boring? You never said."

“Yeah, I mean, he never really talked to me about anything. We never, you know, ever had a conversation or anything. Not the whole time you were dating, what was that, like, two years?”

“About that, yeah. We broke up right before you started college.”

“Oh, right. That’s right."

“Well,” Shiro says. He reaches up and brushes Keith’s hair from his face. “If we’re being honest, I wasn’t a big fan of Lance.”

“What? You told me you thought he was great!”

“I did, sort of. In principle. It seemed like he made you happy.”

Keith sighs, his breath a thousand candy hearts. “Yeah, he did.”

“So, I liked that. But I also didn’t.”

“You’re not making any sense, Shi.”

Shiro’s fingertips are still on his face, balanced on the bolt of his jaw. It feels nice. “I like seeing you happy,” Shiro says. “You deserve that, Keith.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve told me that thousand times before. A million, maybe.”

“But.” Shiro’s thumb traces the line of jaw and rounds the curve of his chin. “I want to be the one who does it.”

Shiro’s eyes when they find his are dark, dark dark, darker than Keith’s ever seen. He can’t look away. He doesn’t want to. “Who does what?”

“Who makes you happy.”

“You always have.” He swallows. When did that get so hard? “Come on, Shi. You know that.”

There’s a flicker over Shiro’s face, the sun turning through glass. “You’re drunk. We can’t talk about this right now, Keith, you’re--”

“I’m not drunk! I’m toasted. Big difference. You know, you’ve seen when I’m shitfaced. Get real. This is not that.”

Shiro makes a sound, a low, pretty thing in his chest and Keith can feel, he can, can’t he, because his palm is spread over Shiro’s sweatshirt, his fingers digging in deep.

“Just say it, Shiro. Tell me what--!”

And then Shiro is in his face, curled over him, their noses, their foreheads, touching, Shiro’s words pouring out in a rush. “I want to kiss you. I want to be the one who kisses you good morning and makes love to you at night and takes care of you, Keith, ensures that you’re happy, that you know how good you are, how beautiful, how safe.”

Keith moans, high and sweet, a noise he’s never heard before, never knew he had stored up inside. “Jesus, Shiro.”

“I want to suck your cock and taste your come and make you dinner and yell at you to pick up your clothes.” Shiro’s pushing him, pressing, shoving him back against the far arm of the couch, holding Keith down with the weight of his body. “I want to watch you brush your teeth and I want to eat you out and I want to say I love you every second of every fucking day because I do, Keith, god, I have since we were kids and you tried to steal my goddamn bike from my front yard.”

“Didn’t try to steal it,” Keith says, somehow, clutching at Shiro’s hair, the tight turn of his waist. “Didn’t try. I did.”

Shiro grunts, their hips catching, rocking the bloom of his cock against the meat of Keith’s thigh. “Yeah, Keith,” he gets out. “You did.”

He pins Keith with his kisses, with the arch of his back and the hot little sounds he makes when their tongues touch, when Keith pulls at his sweatshirt, when their chests meet again, hot and bare. Shiro’s all snarl and shove, panting at Keith’s mouth with a ferocity that turns Keith’s crank hard; all they’ve done is kiss and grind and Shiro--steady, smooth, always unruffled Shiro--is desperate for it, a groaning, greedy mess and it makes Keith feel like a god, like a superhero or something, to have stripped his best friend--the person he loves most in the world, the person who’s always loved him--down to this.

Some part of him thinks: _why haven’t we done this before?_

Some part of him answers: _it wasn’t the right time. not till now._

He’s hard and he wants Shiro to touch him, wants his mouth on his dick so goddamn bad, but right now, it feels amazing to reach down and squeeze the hot line of Shiro’s cock through his sweatpants and feel the hot blurt of wet underneath, feel Shiro’s breath stagger and his hips try to fuck into Keith’s grip.

“Oh, fuck,” Shiro says in his ear, dark chocolate and cherries. “Oh, fuck, that feels good.”

“Yeah? How’d you like it if I took it out?”

“ _Please._ ”

“Put my hand right on it.”

“Yes!” Shiro laughs, low and desperate, rubs the sound against the stretch of Keith’s neck. “Fuck, Keith, don’t tease me.”

“Why not?” He rubs his thumb over the head, grins when Shiro whines. “You seem to like it.”

“Because if you keep doing that, I’m going to come all over you.”

Now Keith’s the one whining, his whole body a bolt. “Fuck yes. Do that. I want you to.”

“Keith.” A warning. “You can’t say shit like that.”

Keith turns his head and finds Shiro’s mouth, soft and savage. “Why not? Because it makes you hot?”

“Yes. _Yes_. You have no idea. None. I just--” His hips wrench. “Wanted you for so long.”

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t--I can’t, oh, _god_ \--”

He can’t stand it anymore, he can’t. “Shiro,” he hisses, “fuck, please. Take this out.”

Shiro pitches up enough for them to scrabble and then he’s free and he’s in Keith’s fist, fat and damp, and he’s clutching at the couch’s arm, fucking Keith’s hand and kissing him again, big, open mouth things that melt one into the next.

“You’re so hard,” Keith murmurs when he can, when Shiro’s panting against his mouth. “Are you gonna be this hard when you fuck me?”

“Yes.” Shiro’s voice is a shudder. “Fuck yes. I’ll have to lick you out forever to get you ready. And even then, when you’re dripping, I’ll have to push it in slow. So slow, baby. Watch you swallow my cock, inch by inch, and then when I’m inside, you’ll have to beg me.”

“For what?” Keith nuzzles Shiro’s chin. “I’ll have you. What else would I need?”

He can feel Shiro’s cock jump. “I won’t move until you ask me for it. You have to.”

“Ask you to fuck me?” Keith’s fist is moving faster, his own dick screaming louder in his jeans. “Beg you? You want me to beg for you to fuck me with this big, gorgeous cock?”

“Yes. Oh, god, yes.”

Keith is flying, Keith is soaring, Keith is hotter than he’s ever been in his life. “Then come on, fuck me, Shiro. Please. Fuck me. I need it.”

Shiro moans, ragged and desperate. It goes right the hell to Keith’s heart. “Yeah? You do?”

“I need you,” Keith says and it’s true, goddamn it. In a dozen different colors and different shades. It’s always been true. “I need you to fuck me, baby. Hold me down just like this and make me take it.”

“It’s yours,” Shiro says, his hips pumping, his cock swelling, his mouth rubbing like silk over Keith’s. “Anything you want, all of me, honey. It’s yours.”

All at once he wrenches up, pushes himself up on one hand and folds the other over Keith’s and then he’s coming, wild-eyed, desperate, and Shiro’s spunk is on Keith’s chest and his chin and at the corner of his mouth and Shiro’s saying his name like rose petals, painting the air with candy hearts and pink streamers and kissing him again, holding him, like Keith wants him to do for the rest of his life.

“I love you, Shi,” Keith says, like he always has, but this time, the words feel different, better, have a new and perfect sort of weight.

Shiro kisses his neck, sucks gentle at the turn of his throat. “Mmmm. You do, huh?”

“Yeah.” Keith strokes a hand through Shiro’s hair. “Pretty much my whole life.”

In a few minutes, he’s sure, Shiro will peel himself up and rub his hand over the jut of Keith’s dick, grin sneaky as he opens Keith’s fly. He’ll fold that gorgeous mouth over Keith’s needy dick and look up at him with those soft eyes, sated storm clouds turned back to gray, and Keith will pet his face and Keith will grab at his hair and Keith will come over Shiro’s tongue and down the back of this throat and amazing as that sounds, he’s ok with this, too: Shiro’s head on his shoulder and his hand on Keith’s chest, his breath dipped down to a hum.

“Funny,” Shiro says softly. He lifts his head. “Funny thing about that.”

“Which is what?”

“I love you, too.” Shiro smiles, his mouth wet, their eyes perfect colliding. "Happy Valentine’s Day.”


End file.
